Disclaimer:  This is all Tolkien's; never mine.

            *note:  This is another one I'm rather fond of.^^  Enjoy.

Ch. 9

A PROMISE IN THE RAIN

            The next morning dawned wet and dismal.  Rain poured in sheets beyond the intricate doorways leading outside.  Apryl watched the downpour from the soft elven bed, her eyes wide and shimmering.  The effect was magical.  The rain fell everywhere beyond her room, clouded in a gray mist that softened the sound of the pattering water.  She sat there very still and quiet, in a home that was owned by an elf, in a world that should have been nothing more than a fantasy in her mind.  And yet, everything was so real.  It was not just the sound and the smell and the taste of the world around her, for all her dreams had that quality.  It was the feel.  She couldn't describe it, this feeling she loved.  It was something that brought tears of joy to her eyes.  It sent her stomach writhing in flip-flops that were almost, but not quite, unpleasant.  This feeling that made her want to jump right up and run, laughing, into the rainstorm.  Had she been afraid the feeling might disappear, she would have done just that.

            After a while though, when the feeling grew to an overwhelming urgency, she leapt from the bed in naught but her white night shift and, bare-footed, walked--no, ran--to one of the many arches leading outdoors.  She stood there in the dry overhang for several moments, watching with mounting excitement.  Suddenly, the image of a short man with a beard, dancing around came to her mind and she smiled.

            I wish Tom Bombadil was here.  I should like to dance with him.  Her eyes sparkled like the falling rain.  She twirled and the shift billowed. 

            After several moments, she stumbled to a stop and, grinning, glanced around the room.  On the far end, she spied a cedar closet that she hadn't taken the time to note before.  On her awakening, she had sought out her clothes but hadn't found them.  For that reason alone, she had stayed in the room.

            She ran over to it.  Inside, she found silk dresses hanging in its dark depths.  Apryl had never been fond of dresses, in fact she hadn't worn one since the seventh grade and that she had only done for a project.  But even with no appreciation of them, these took and held her breath.  Hurriedly, she shut the cabinet.  They were too gorgeous.

            Apryl looked around the room, thinking.  What do they expect me to do when they go and take my clothes? she wondered irritably.  Finally, coming to no better conclusion--in fact, no conclusion whatsoever--she shrugged, turned, and made her way from her room to the hall Gandalf and her had traipsed along the night before.  There was only one person she was certain she could find. 

            She found the room with little difficulty and peeped around the corner. 

            The bed was empty. 

            Frowning, Apryl walked into the room and peered around.  Surely he wouldn't be well enough to be up and about, would he?

            "Pippin?" she called finally.

            There was a splash, a curse, a thud, and then a moan.

            Startled, Apryl ran forward to where the noise had come from--on the other side of the bed.  As she came around, the balcony came into view and, along with it, a fallen hobbit.  He lay on the wet wood, staring up into the sky, rain falling down to drench his clothes and curls.

            With a cry, she ran over to him.

            "Pippin?  Oh, Pippin, I am so sorry.  Are you alright?"  She knelt down beside him.

            "You know," he gasped, looking up into the sky.  He blinked as rain fell into his eyes.  "That . . . kind of hurt."

            Gently, she placed her hands on his shoulders.  "You shouldn't be outside.  Let me help you up."  She started to pull him up but he placed a stalling hand--scared--upon her leg.

            "No," he said, and she hesitated.  He didn't look at her but stared up into the sky, as if he sought something high in its dark depths.  Suddenly, he smiled.  "It feels good."  His body, which had been tense (probably from the fall), relaxed.

            Apryl looked doubtful.  "Pippin, I don't--"

            He turned his gaze from the heavens and his gray eyes met her's.  He smiled reassuringly.  The doubt left her eyes and she returned his smile. 

            "Are you sure you want to lay here, though?"

            "Positive."

            "Alright," she said, sitting down and then laying next to him.  The rain soaked through her shift almost immediately.  A shiver wracked her body but she smiled nonetheless.  She liked this, lying in the rain next to someone, just because.

            Pippin, seeing this, struggled to sit up.  "You don't have to--" he began.

            "It's alright," she told him, bringing her hands behind her head.  "I like the rain.  Besides, it helps your burns."

            He lay back down, nodding and sighing.  "That's why I came out here in the first place," he explained.  "I woke up from the burning and the rain seemed so inviting.  It doesn't rain too much were I come from, it only sprinkles now and again.  But it cools the burning."

            Apryl bit her lip.  She would have apologized then, would have done it a thousand times, had she thought Pippin knew it was her that caused his pain.  He didn't, though; there was no way for him to.

             Pippin chuckled.  "I didn't expect to be lying in it, though."

             She forced the unpleasant feeling from her system; knowing there was nothing she could do for Pippin now, except perhaps to be a friend. 

            "How did you fall?" she asked, curious.  "I heard you, after I called your name."

            The hobbit blushed slightly.  "You startled me.  I didn't expect anyone to come in, not for a long while at least.  If I had known it, then I don't think I should of been out here."

            "Why not?"   

            "They're an awfully concerned bunch, these elves," he explained.  "Probably, they'd think the rain would be bad for me."

            "It probably is."

            "Probably," he agreed.

            "But you don't care?"

            "Well, maybe.  But it helps an awful lot and I think it's worth it, even if I do get sick later.  Colds, and the like, are a lot better than this confounded burning."  He held his feet in the air and wiggled his toes, letting the rain fall onto his burns.  

            Seeing this, Apryl giggled.

            "What?"

            "Nothing," she said, trying to stifle the laughter but failing.

            "You're laughing at something," he pointed out.

            "Yes," she agreed, smiling but saying nothing.

            Pippin looked at her.  "Well?" he demanded.

            "Your feet," she said, finally.  "They're furry."

            "So?"

            The giggles turned into laughter.

            Pippin gave a sigh of exasperation.

            "I'm sorry," she gasped.  "I'm sorry.  It's nothing.  Honest."

            "Sure," was all he said.

            Once her laughter subsided, she looked at him sideways.  "Are you mad at me?"

            "Yes."

            She frowned, then looked down at her own feet.  She held one up.  "You can laugh at mine," she offered.  It was pale as the white mist around them.  She wiggled her toes and smiled.  "They're as bare as a baby's," she told him.  "At least, a hobbit-baby's."

            Pippin looked at her foot and grinned.  "You're right, you do have a babe's foot."

            She made a face at him.  "Are we even, then?"

            He grinned.  "Yeah."

            The rain poured down upon the two as they watched its descent, blinking rapidly when the water splattered on their noses and eyes.

            "I dreamt of you," Pippin said suddenly and quite unexpectedly.

            Apryl started and stared at him.

            "When I was sick, I saw you in my dreams and you healed me."  He said this all matter-of-factly, as though it didn't surprise him in the least.  "Merry told me that I got hit by magic; that I was in the way."--he gave her a crooked grin, as though to say "big surprise, huh?"--"Gandalf wanted you for a reason, I've decided and a pretty good one, too, for Gandalf is an awfully busy wizard and not one to idle with things if he doesn't have a proper reason."  He got up on one elbow and stared at her with large, gray eyes--from this close, she saw that they were speckled green.  He tilted his head at a slight angle and his eyes narrowed, as if he was peering at her from a distance and wished to see every little detail of her face.  "You called me your falcon."

            There was a blush on her cheeks as Apryl pushed herself up so she sat before him, her legs to one side of her body.  He rose to follow and both sat looking at the other.  Slowly, she nodded.  "Peregrin.  My small, fierce falcon."  In the rain, her hair was curling around her face. 

            A moment later:

            "Thank you."

            The whisper was small, soft, and almost went unheard.

            Apryl glanced over at the hobbit.  "What for?" she wondered.

            "For coming to me in that place," Pippin shuddered.  "It was very frightful."

            She nodded.  "When you left me, I was terribly alone."

            He looked at her, then reached over and slipped his small hand within her larger one.  "Don't worry," he told her, "You won't be alone anymore."  He smiled at her reassuringly.  "I promise."

            Apryl looked down at the small hand within hers and wondered if he realized the magnitude of that promise.  She doubted it.

            She squeezed his hand and he gave her a crooked smile.  "Thanks," was all she said.

            He nodded, and their hands fell away. 

            "By the way," he said, after a moment.  "What is your name?  You know mine, but I don't know yours."

            She hesitated.

            "Don't you know?"

            "Of course."

            "Well?"

            Again, she hesitated.  "Well . . . where I come from its . . . but then, Gandalf said . . ."  She looked wholeheartedly confused.

            "I could just call you 'milady' if you like," Pippin offered.

            She made a face at him.  "No, it sounds too, I don't know, elvish, I guess."

            Pippin nodded.

            "I suppose--"

            "Pippin!"

            The two jumped and turned, water flying from their noses and hair.

            Merry ran from the dry interior of Peregrin's room.

            "What are you doing?" Merry demanded of his cousin.

            "Talking."

            "In the rain?" Merry wanted to know.

            "And what's wrong with that?" he demanded.  "We were just having a sensible conversation--"

            "In the rain," Merry said again.  "What's sensible about that?"

            Pippin grinned and looked at Apryl.  "He has a point."

            She smiled and nodded.

            Merry stopped short, suddenly realizing there was someone else sitting there before him.  "Apryl?" he asked hesitantly.

            "Is that your name?" Pippin sounded pleased.

            "Well, yes, but . . ." her voice trailed off as she peered at this newcomer.  Not Frodo, she sighed inwardly.  Merry, then? 

            As if he had heard her unspoken question, Pippin got to his feet--a bit awkwardly--and threw an arm around his cousin.  "This, my dear Lady Apryl, is Meriadoc Brandybuck."

            The smile that alighted Apryl's face pleased both hobbits.

            Merry dipped his head, letting blonde curls cover and hide his blue eyes.  His cheeks were stained a dusty pink. 

            "Merry," she breathed softly.

            Merry's head snapped up and Pippin looked at her curiously.  She realized her mistake a moment later but didn't care.  She got to her feet.  "I'm pleased to meet you, Meriadoc."

            "The honor is mine, Lady."

            Such a polite folk.  Then again, the whole lot of them are polite, even the dwarves . . . and especially the elves.  The hobbits . . . well, they're polite . . . and darling.  

            She smiled at him, withholding a sigh.

            In any case, Meriadoc, you are wrong.  The honor is, indeed, mine.

            Rain fell from the sky in torrents and soon Merry, too, was drenched.  He was fully dressed however, whereas Pippin and Apryl were not.

            "Come on," he said, "Gandalf will kill the lot of us if he sees the two of you like this."

            Pippin, grinning at the thought, followed his cousin indoors, his small hand clasping the girl's so that she might follow.  In her mind, his confident words came back to her:  "Don't worry.  You won't be alone anymore.  I promise . . ."

            With all her heart, she hoped he spoke truly.

*****

            Peregrin can be such a sweetheart.